Odds Are
by Swanlight
Summary: It's 1809, in the middle of Napoleon's conquest of Europe. He hasn't lost a battle in ten years, and it seems hopeless that anyone, let alone Austria, will be able to stop him. Then a little battle called Aspern-Essling happened.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Odds Are

**Characters/Pairings: **Austria, Hungary, Liechtenstein, France, various historical figures; A sappy Austria/Hungary moment at one point.

**Rating: **T for violence and a little bit of language.

**Warnings: **It's HISTORICAL! With human names, cause I'm lame like that. Liechtenstein is uncharacteristically badass.

**Summary: **A retelling of the Battle of Aspern-Essling during the Napoleonic Wars.

Seven men and two women stood around the seasoned wooden table, its glossed surface covered by a map so severely studied that the nine present could draw out each miniscule detail with their eyes closed.

"Our scouts inform us that the French forces have secured Aspern and Essling," Archduke Charles of Austria said, his voice without trepidation but still gravely serious. To illustrate his point, he gestured on the map to the two adjacent villages on the east bank of the Danube, just across the river from Vienna. "Once we have them pinned against the river, we will commence our attack and drive the French out of Vienna for good."

The Archduke's words fermented in the air for several long moments, no one wanting to contradict the commander of the Austrian forces. Finally, the taller of the two women spoke up.

"Napoleon himself is fighting tomorrow." Elizabeta spat the name as if it were an expletive. In these times, it practically was. She continued, "And we all know that he hasn't lost a battle in over a decade. Do you really think we can defeat the French tomorrow?" Her question wasn't solely directed at the Archduke; she looked around the assembly with eyes as sharp as cut emeralds.

The generals were uncomfortable with this sudden prodding. Hohenzollern muttered something unintelligible, while Rosenberg folded his arms across his chest and stared at his feet.

"I think we can," a quiet, feeble voice said. Everyone turned to gaze upon the speaker, a thin girl with pale blonde hair and eyes like a startled doe. With irrevocable determination set into her face, Lili said a bit louder, "I _know _we can."

"You realize," Elizabeta replied, turning on her, "that just because we have more soldiers doesn't mean we're going to win. And just because we have a good strategy doesn't mean we're going to win. This is _Napoleon _we're talking about here – he'll have the better strategy, no matter what. That's how he's managed to build his empire, and that's how he'll manage to destroy us come tomorrow morning." Despite her fierce argument, Lili didn't look perturbed in the least.

General Hiller saw that it was easier to join the negative side in this debate. "The French have bested us before. Does anyone remember the battle of Austerlitz? We had the help of Russia then, and still we couldn't claim a victory. What is going to make tomorrow's fight any different?" he demanded.

At the word 'Austerlitz'_, _Roderich involuntarily flinched. He had deliberately kept to himself and would rather not be here at all if he had any say in it. The Archduke had insisted he be there, and indeed, it was his duty, but Roderich couldn't help but notice a foreboding feeling about the upcoming fight, and he was entitled to it. Vienna, his pride and joy, had been and most likely still was being ransacked and looted by Francis's soldiers, eager to satisfy their greed. Though the bridges across the Danube had been burned to keep the French from advancing and all the boats destroyed or swept upriver, Napoleon's army had constructed a makeshift bridge and was now camped on the island Lobau and the eastern bank of the river.

All those things were spinning around in his brain quickly enough to make him feel dizzy, and now his general had brought up Austerlitz, one of his blackest and most pain-wracked memories to date.

The Archduke noticed his nation's visible reaction, and went about changing the subject. "Our numbers are far superior to Napoleon's, that much is true. They have strategists, and so do we. We will be fighting in our homeland, and they will be the ones on foreign ground."

Hiller started to interrupt him, as these were nearly the same conditions during the battle of Austerlitz, but Archduke Charles held up a hand to keep him silenced. "The difference this time is that these men have a reason to fight. The French Empire has been purging our land too long. Each of those men knows that a victory tomorrow will be the first step in ridding Austria of the French. And what greater prize is there than a freed country?" With this rhetorical question, the Archduke trained his gaze on Roderich. Indigo eyes met dark brown, and Charles smiled reassuringly.

Roderich sighed nearly inaudibly, then mumbled something about fresh air as he raised the canvas flap of the tent that served as the doorway. Once outside, he looked to the heavens glittering with stars and a nearly full moon. In the clear mid-May air, he listened to the sound of crickets in the grass, muffled voices of the anxious men in the camp, and the ever-permeating rushing of the Danube, though it was several kilometers away. The peace was fragile tonight, and in just a few hours, it would be shattered beyond repair.

Lost as he was in thought, Roderich didn't hear the figure walking up beside him. He jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Sorry for frightening you, Herr Edelstein," Lili said in that innocent voice of hers, "but I needed to speak with you in private."

Roderich was a bit embarrassed at the fact that he had been scared by a little girl, but at the same time he was relieved that it was her and not, say, Elizabeta. "If this is about the battle tomorrow…." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"It's about so much more than that," she insisted, almost pleaded. "This is about you, your people, my people, _the entire world. _We have a chance to stop Francis's army from advancing, and if we do, the whole of Europe will turn to us as an example.

"Don't you see, Roderich?" She laid her hand on his arm, just to make sure he was still paying attention. "This is our only chance. Common sense tells you that you won't win, but the odds are that we can and we _will._" For a moment, she paused in her speech, waiting for a reaction from him.

After a moment of silence, he replied, "I think you are right to be optimistic, but don't let it blind you."

Lili violently wrenched her fingers from his arm, which shocked him. Roderich had never seen her lose her temper, but she looked as if she might now.

"I'm not the blinded one!" she cried out suddenly. "Why have you lost your faith in yourself, Roderich? You and Elizabeta both. The French are raiding your city and crossing your river as we speak, and you don't want to drive them out, protect your land and your people?"

"Of course I do!" He didn't realize he was shouting until he heard himself. Quieter, he went on: "I want more than anything to protect them."

"Then do it," she said simply, then turned and walked away, leaving Roderich to his own devices. Was the girl who had just talked to him really the nation of Liechtenstein, or was she an imposter who looked exactly like her, but with a worse temperament?

Then again, he mused, maybe the real problem here was himself. He was still an empire strong enough to challenge Francis's army, wasn't he? Perhaps Lili was right; he needed to stop moping around and prepare for the upcoming confrontation. With the river's sounds still permanently etched into the background noise, he thought of her words, of the French crossing the yellow waters of the Danube. _His _Danube. Yes, that sparked a bit of turmoil inside him. By morning it would be kindled into a flame that would carry him into battle, ready to defend all he held dear.

**Author's Notes **

_**Austerlitz: **_**The battle Napoleon fought against Austrian and Russian forces in Bavaria in 1805. It was absolute bloodshed, and the two allied nations were easily defeated by the French. Basically, the Austrians were pwned into submission and stayed that way until 1809.**

_**Hungary and Liechtenstein: **_**The Austrian Empire at the time ruled over what would eventually become Hungary, so she's lurking around, but she and Austria aren't married yet. The Prince of Liechtenstein backed up Archduke Charles in the Battle of Aspern-Essling. But more on that later.**


	2. Chapter 2

There was to be no more hellish place on May 21, 1809 than Marchfield. The sun beat down relentlessly, heating and baking the earth like clay in a kiln. Soon, blood, organs, and tissues would cover the plain as if paint and glaze.

Francis and his army had been ready since sunup, Roderich knew. Despite this, he and Archduke Charles waited until the middle of the day to meet them, hoping that standing in the superheated air would fatigue the French before the actual battle. Normally a patient person, Roderich had taken to frustrated pacing to try to pass time until his army could attack. He tried to find Lili or Elizabeta, but they were either busy with preparations or avoiding him, he deduced.

When he thought he could take the waiting no longer, the Archduke, mounted on his favorite white Andalusian battlehorse, rode up with the reins of Roderich's palomino in hand.

"It's time," Charles said simply. Roderich nodded and forced himself to keep a straight face as he planted his feet in the stirrups and jumped onto the chestnut-colored mare. The temptation to smile like a child with a cake was almost too great for him to resist. He could scarcely believe that fifteen hours ago, he had been dreading this moment, the short period of anxious anticipation that always came before riding off into war. Now it was here, and he basked in it.

Roderich and the Archduke rode down the line of their cavalry brigade, the Austrian colors and pennants lying motionless upon the raised staffs. There was no breeze, but the effect would be complete when the mounted soldiers rode into the fray.

"Men of the noble Austrian Empire!" Charles called out as he and his stallion trotted past the sea of faces and horses. "Discard your preconceived notions of the enemy. Do away with their preceding reputation, the gross exaggerations of their might. They are men and we are men, nothing more and nothing less.

"Remember this and only this: we are Austrian, and on this day we fight on our land for our land!" The masses of men cheered, and Roderich's heart swelled a little. The Archduke's speech was fanning the flames of not only his but the cavalry's spirits, and Roderich knew more than anyone how motivation like this could reflect on the outcome of a battle.

Charles turned and rode up the column now. "There is a time and a place for white lies and comforting words, and where you stand today is neither. I needn't tell most of you that war is the most gruesome, despicable, inhuman, and inhumane experience that you will ever witness. Today is no exception."

The cavalry was somber now, but every man's attention was focused on the Archduke riding his gallant white stallion.

"Nonetheless, take heart, my men-at-arms," he continued, "for the very worst you can do today is die in the heat of battle. The only thing more feared than death is being forgotten, and I assure you that none of the valiant, heroic men that his cruel world will be ridden of today will pass into Heaven unremembered, for God is with Austria this day!" The men were alight again, rising into a wordless cheer, an inferno of raw emotion.

"For the Emperor! For Austria! And for the glory of our free land!"

General Hiller was to lead one of the initial attacks on Aspern, so Roderich joined up with his cavalry force, adrenaline already pulsing through his veins. Hiller held the Austrian standard, black and yellow with the double-headed imperial eagle, with pride as he charged, an ancient battle cry rising from his lungs as a thousand mounted men thundered behind him. They crested the top of a hill and the French forces saw them and shot, most of the bullets never finding a target.

Roderich scanned the deluge of soldiers around him for the familiar face, the one framed by golden curls with a bit of stubble that the man refused to shave off. It would be nearly impossible to spot one out of a hundred thousand, but knowing Francis, he would be making a show of himself.

Fighting is a tricky thing. It takes years to perfect, and even then, there's always something that will take one by surprise. The easiest way to go about it is to surrender to the animal violence inside, to only decipher between men on your side and the enemy. Don't think. Defend. Attack. Dodge. Stay alert. Don't die.

Shortly into the battle, his horse stumbled and he was nearly thrown from the saddle. One of the blasted French soldiers took the opportunity and shot at Roderich, but the bullet hit the mare instead. Dismounted, he shot with his bayonet, and when he ran out of gunpowder, he reverted to his sword. The weapon was balanced perfectly and crafted out of steel, the gold detailing on the hilt glittering in the midafternoon sun. Nowadays, it was more a sign of rank than anything else, but the fierce brutality of cold steel was still as effective as it was five hundred years ago.

There was no measure of time, since it lurched in unexpected ways; five minutes could feel like an hour and two hours could seem like only a few minutes spent in a nightmare. For every Frenchman his soldiers defeated, another was in his place; neither side made much progress against the other. Roderich recorded the day by landmarks instead of the time. He made it into the village. He killed a French soldier on the threshold of what used to be a bakery. He hid in an alley while a group reloaded their muskets and charged at them when they least expected.

Through the haze of blood, sweat, and desperate pleas in both his native tongue and a slippery foreign language, he managed to make it to the church of Aspern. Its steeple had been toppled and bare, scorched crossbeams were all that was left of the once-holy sanctuary. Across from the church was a small graveyard, now populated with fresh bodies draped unceremoniously across the ground. Roderich heard a gunshot ring out and he spun around, his knuckles white around the sword's hilt. He felt the bullet embed itself into his right side but the pain didn't register right away—what did was the now-involuntary action of taking a few paces toward the man and running the blade of the sword through his chest without a second thought. The man's eyes were wide, as if he was surprised by his own death.

In front of him, he heard footsteps. Roderich lifted his gaze from the man he had just impaled and drew his sword out of the body in a routine motion.

"_Bonjour_, _Autriche_, _mon chou,_" Francis said as he nonchalantly strode over to Roderich. The battle was showing on him; his once-immaculate uniform was spattered with blood and other unidentified stains. Only a few minor scratches showed on his skin.

Roderich, on the other hand, couldn't afford to lose this battle. Already his losses were evident. Half the red on his coat was his own blood, and he could sure as hell feel that bullet wound now. Hopefully it hadn't pierced his lung… as soon as he thought about it, he began to cough, and sure enough he could taste the metallic edge of blood on his tongue.

"_Frankreich_," he spat, partly to get the blood out of his mouth but mostly in contempt for the nation standing before him.

"My, how the mighty have fallen," Francis echoed the same words he had uttered at Austerlitz. Roderich gritted his teeth against the pain and humiliation. "I now know what it feels like to be on top of the world, Roderich. This must be how you felt when you were part of the Holy Roman Empire's house so many years ago." He smiled mockingly at Roderich and turned for a moment, probably to go on with his monologue. Roderich seized the window of opportunity and channeled all of his hatred and pain into one blow, lunged forward with his weapon—

And the strike glanced off Francis's blade, which he bad brought up to parry the attack with a lightning reflex.

"Ah, Roderich, I thought you were a gentleman," he taunted further. "Then again, they say that all is fair in war and _amour, non_?" Francis took the offensive now, darting in with his lightweight rapier and trying to get around his opponent's defense.

Focusing primarily on intercepting the man's blows, Roderich managed to keep his bullet wound on the backburner of his mind. "Tell me, Francis, can you feel it?" he asked. A fleeting look of puzzlement crossed Francis's face, but he quickly reverted back to his smug grin.

"I'm sure you can," Roderich went on, all the while keeping his guard up. "I can sense it, how this battle is going to end. My men outnumber yours too greatly, and you've made a mistake by letting yourselves be corned against the Danube." Of course, there were French reinforcements coming across the river still, but all Roderich needed to do was plant the seed of doubt in the man's mind.

Francis feinted to the left and Roderich didn't see through the deception quickly enough; the weak point of his defense was wide open and Francis cut upward, opening a shallow gash on Roderich's shoulder.

At first he gasped in shock, then he cried out in pain despite himself. He would not give Francis time to enjoy this, or even make a snide comment. With a fury he'd been waiting all day to fully unleash, Roderich rained down on Francis with a flurry of thrusts, maneuvers, and strikes. Surprised by the sudden aggressiveness, Francis had no choice but to keep giving ground until he found his back to a stone wall, cold but slick with blood. Roderich's blade was to his throat, but he managed a smirk.

"You haven't won this battle yet, you impertinent bastard," he taunted, even though he really wasn't in a position to do so. "When this ends, I'll put you back in your place, which is under the control of my mighty empire."

Disgusted with the man, Roderich removed the sharpened end of his sword from Francis's neck, and quickly brought it around and rapped him on the temple with the hilt. Francis crumbled to the ground and Roderich said to his unconscious form, "You're right, this isn't over. But when it is, you'll be begging my mercy."

With that, he turned and walked off to find a medic, trying to keep pressure on both his shoulder and chest to staunch the bleeding.

When she saw him stumbling across the plain, Elizabeta prayed that it was just fatigue getting the better of her, or a hallucination from dehydration, or a ghost or _something, _as long as that wasn't Roderich, looking like he was about to collapse.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it. _She repeated the mantra in her head as she tried to focus on the battle at hand, but she couldn't help looking over at him every few seconds. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer.

Elizabeta ran toward him but turned to the side at the last moment, taking out a French soldier with the butt of her rifle. She watched the man's face as he realized he had just been attacked by a woman. Their faces always amused her, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?" she demanded of Roderich, who was now bent nearly double in pain. With an overly annoyed sigh, she grabbed his arm and shifted his weight onto her shoulder. She pretended like it didn't nearly kill her each time he let out a rattled cough. There was no way he was going to die today, but this feeble, tattered version of the proud aristocrat she was used to made her uneasy.

Several times she had to drop Roderich and pick up her rifle to eliminate any of those damn French stragglers who had no problem with shooting at a woman and an invalid. Her thoughts were the sincerest apologies to him, but what came out of her mouth were expletives in her language.

As the sun was slowly drowning in the Austrian mountains, the pair made it to the medical camp. If anything, it was worse than the battle at its most gruesome.

The screams and terrified groans of the dying saturated the air, only punctuated by the grating of metal on bone as the surgeons amputated soldiers' limbs. It smelled of death, bile, and blood, but Elizabeta had seen worse in her days. The ones who witnessed the worst on the battlefield were the medics, she knew. Even though medicine had advanced in the past hundred years or so, conditions didn't change. If anything, they had gotten worse as technology became more deadly.

She laid Roderich down on a patch of grass that wasn't too slick with blood and tried to flag down the nearest medic.

"Hey, you there!" she called out, but the man scurried away before she caught his attention. Not about to give up, she screamed, "This is Edelstein over here! He's kind of important!" She didn't know exactly what office he held in his government at the moment, but she figured most people would know who he was.

Elizabeta almost recoiled when she felt a gentle touch on her ankle, but she realized it was just him. "It's fine," he whispered. "I can still fight tomorrow."

She regarded him with scrutiny. Obviously the wound that needed tending the most was that nasty-looking one on his chest, but there wasn't much she could do for that besides bandage it up. Their kind usually healed quickly from these kinds of inflictions, once the battle in question was finished.

After an internal struggle on whether or not to hand him over to the surgeons, she decided to take care of him herself. It made sense, really – the surgeons were busy saving Roderich's people, and that alone should help him regain some of his strength. It didn't make sense to keep them from saving others when she could do a good enough job right here.

With her twisted logic confirmed, she set to work. First up was the task of taking his jacket off. She knew that it _had _to be done, and part of her wanted to do this, but the other part argued that Roderich was off-limits, just as he had always been.

_Goddamn it all! _Before she started having more second thoughts about this entire ordeal, she unbuttoned the coat, taking care to peel it back gently where the fabric had become matted with half-dried blood. She did the same with his shirt, setting her jaw as she stared at the carnage.

Remarkably, it wasn't really a temptation to stare at his skin when there was a gaping hole in his chest that needed to be addressed. Elizabeta knew that she probably wouldn't be able to go on if he started screaming in pain, as right now he was taking in sharp breaths and wasn't that far off from totally losing it. Somewhere off in the distance, a piper started playing whatever their little instruments were called – _Roderich would know, _she thought – and the melody carried through the camp. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

The sound seemed to calm him down a bit, though. For that she was grateful.

She prodded around the wound as gently as she could, and deduced that the bullet hadn't completely pierced his lung, which was good. Since his shirt was pretty much ruined anyway, she tore it into strips to use as a bandage. As she was binding his wound as tightly as she could, she remembered, and nearly kicked herself for forgetting.

_It's his anthem, the song that the piper was playing. The one Haydn wrote. _

Besides a few minor nicks and bruises, his only other injury was a cut on his shoulder, but it had already stopped bleeding, and there wasn't much she could do about it now.

Twilight had fully descended upon them, and somehow, in the darkness, Roderich found her hand.

"Do you think we're going to win?" he asked.

_No, _she wanted to answer. _Francis has more reinforcements coming in, and our troops are already exhausted. We may still have the upper hand in numbers, but tomorrow's going to be much more brutal. We're not going to make it._

"Yes," she said simply. If she added anything else, he could probably tell by her tone that she was lying. After all, they had lived together for such a long time that they knew each other too well.

_But I want to know him more._

"Thank you," he whispered humbly. "For taking care of me. For staying with me."

Elizabeta didn't know how to react to this. _I'll stay with you anytime. It was my pleasure. We should stay together like this more often._

"You're welcome" was all she could manage.

He drifted off to sleep somehow, amidst the agony that surrounded them on all sides. She envied him to a degree for that. Of course, her other option was to abandon him, leave this godforsaken medical camp, and try to sleep where the rest of their army was bivouacked. She concentrated on the steady, repetitive sound of Roderich's breathing, allowing herself to tune out the miserable wails of the dying. No, there was no way she could leave him tonight.

_After all, who else will take care of him? _With this last conscious thought, she fell into the deep sleep that only seasoned soldiers could achieve.

**Author's Notes**

_**Marchfield: **_**Basically the entire area around Aspern and Essling.**

_**Andalusian horse: **_**You may be wondering, **_**What the hell is an archduke of Austria doing with a Spanish horse? **_**Well, Spain had awesome horses, and it was a sign of noble status in the rest of Europe to have one of 'em back in the day. They were kind of like the nineteenth century's equivalent of Italian sports cars. **

_**The Emperor: **_**Kaiser Francis I ruled from 1804 to 1835. I didn't use his name because I didn't want to cause confusion between him and Francis the nation. **

_**Autriche: **_**French for "Austria".**

_**Mon chou: **_**Literally, French for "my cabbage". It's apparently a term of endearment, although why anyone would **_**want **_**to be called a cabbage is beyond me.**

_**Frankreich: **_**German for "France". **

**Forgive my extremely lame swordfight. I tried to make it sound cool but I know next to nothing about fencing (I have a feeling it's one of those things that you really have to experience, and not just read about), so I probably ended up butchering that entire scene. orz**

**Also, I'm not entirely sure how the first day of fighting ended. Wikipedia tells me that the French still occupied Aspern, but Patrick Rambaud's **_**The Battle **_**implied that the Austrians controlled it (they were parading around with Austrian flags, and then French soldier whose point of view we were witnessing this from got shot in the face and was promptly removed from the village).**

**I tried not to steal too much plot from Rambaud (it's a historical novel, so I have no clue how much actually happened and how much he made up), but I must admit that the idea of the Austrians playing music at night was not mine. It was just too perfect for me to pass up. I'm a terrible person. orz**


	3. Chapter 3

An hour before the sun was scheduled to rise, Roderich woke from a terrifying dream. For the life of him he couldn't remember what it was about, but he lay startled for several minutes, separating the subconscious from reality.

He sat up, biting his lip to keep from crying out at the sudden shot of pain that encompassed his chest. Elizabeta stirred beside him, groggy only for a moment. Despite the little amount of sleep she had managed, she was wide awake almost immediately.

"Are you feverish or something?" she asked as she helped him stand. "Honestly, I've only seen you up before sunrise a handful of times."

At that, he managed a small smile through the throbbing in his torso. "I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep, so we might as well attack now," he explained through gritted teeth.

"Hey, you need to take it easy for a little bit," she said, almost sounding like a fussy mother hen. "At least go find the Archduke before you go running off. He's probably wondering where the hell you are."

Roderich nodded in agreement; it would also be a good idea to think over a battle plan before riding out, clearly. In the semidarkness, he took a few tentative steps, then realized that she wasn't following. He turned around and saw that she had lay back down on the grass.

"Elizabeta, aren't you coming?" he asked. Not that he needed her help to walk or anything, but he didn't like the prospect of walking through the camp without her. Over the past few hours, he'd become accustomed to her presence, that was all.

She opened one eye. "Nope. I'm getting as much sleep as I can. We've got a bloody day ahead of us, and I'm going to ignore it for as long as I can." With that, she adjusted her tricorne hat so that it covered her eyes, effectively ending the conversation. For a moment, Roderich envied her; since she was under his dominion, all she had to worry about was fighting and keeping her identity. He, on the other hand, had to be privy to all the government workings and technical details like battle plans. Usually he didn't mind it, but at times like these, it was a burden he had to bear.

A thick fog had settled over Marchfield, but he knew this area well. As Roderich made his way across the Austrian camp, he tried to convince himself that this empty gnawing inside him wasn't loneliness, it was probably just hunger. He hadn't eaten in a while, so it made perfect sense. The pain from his bullet wound was slowly becoming less noticeable as he walked, and it seemed to stay that way as long as he kept his mind off it. Still, it was just one more grievance that Francis would pay for when their armies clashed again today.

By the time he arrived at Archduke Charles's tent, the eastern sky was a ruddy orange-pink. Upon entering, he wasn't surprised to find Charles already awake, with dark circles under his eyes. Lili was standing next to him, pouring over the map on the table as if it held the secrets to victory today and she was intent on unlocking them.

"Edelstein, there you are," the Archduke said. "Good timing, too. I just sent Hohenzollern and Rosenberg to go wake the men. Today we're taking Aspern and Essling from the French, and it's imperative that we do so before their reinforcements from the Confederation of the Rhine get here."

"The only thing that's keeping them at bay," Lili added, "is our efforts to keep them from building more bridges across the Danube. Without those bridges, the reinforcements can't cross and we still have a chance to win this."

Roderich nodded. He had only one question: "What is there to eat around here?"

As day broke, Lili found herself mounted upon her dappled gray pony. Adjacent to her was Prince Johann, who looked down at his principality as a doting father would gaze at his daughter.

"I don't think you should be fighting," he said nonchalantly, as he did every time she accompanied him on the front lines.

With a slight sigh, she trained her eyes on him and responded as she always did. "I'm not a little girl, and I've seen my share of battle already. As long as our men march into war, I'll be there with them."

He disagreed wholeheartedly, especially since Lili looked every part the innocent little girl, from the blonde braids to the round face. Still, she was insistent that she was allowed to ride into the fray, and there was little he could do to stop her.

Since the cavalry of Liechtenstein were a reserve unit, they hadn't seen much action the previous day. Lili was itching to do _something_, since she had spent yesterday watching forces clash and gauging the French's strengths and weaknesses. Now, all available soldiers under the Archduke were about to march into battle to face Francis's men, now reinforced by more troops that had come across the Danube overnight.

So when the message came to start the charge, she didn't wait for Prince Johann to try to convince her to stay behind again – she urged her pony on in front of him, leading her men into battle on the mist-laden Marchfield. However, nature soon took its course, and her short-legged steed couldn't hold the lead for long. By the time the Liechtenstein reserves met the French at Essling, Lili was at the back of her company, her poor pony nearly exhausted. Feeling more than a little frustrated, she dismounted and sent the pony galloping away from Essling, and in retrospect, from the French. They didn't need one more captured horse, that was for sure.

On foot, she grouped up with a few of her soldiers who were positioned behind a small rise in the land. After loading the bayonet that made her look that much tinier by comparison, she aimed in the general direction of the French line and flicked the trigger back.

No matter how many times she prepared herself for the recoil, she never managed to absorb the shock. Her back hit the grass and the firearm landed across her chest, but the part of her that stung the worst was her shoulder. Gritting her teeth, she sat up and went to work reloading. As she measured out gunpowder, the man to her right stared at her, dumbfounded by the appearance of a child in the middle of a battle. She ignored him; it was habit now to disregard the glances she received from her men-at-arms, and she had learned long ago that in the heat of war, few will linger on a little girl when there are enemies to kill.

By the time her shoulder had gone numb from countless shots fired, it was clear that they were driving the French from the village of Essling. The army of Liechtenstein advanced with a cheer that was tired but definitely not defeated.

Prince Johann had managed to stay atop his horse through the siege, as he galloped through the lines of men. When he singled out Lili, he jumped down from his sleek black stallion and looked down at her with an almost relieved expression.

"Report back to the Archduke and tell him that we've taken Essling," he ordered, glancing from his horse to his nation. Seeing that there was no way she could make it up to his horse alone, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the saddle.

Embarrassed redness seeped into her cheeks as she urged the horse forward, toward Archduke Charles's camp. As much admiration as she felt for the man, Johann acted as if he was her doting father, not her boss. Yes, she was a small territory compared to Roderich or Francis, but that didn't make her a child, even if she looked like it. The least Prince Johann could do was treat her with some respect for once, since she was technically his equal. Just as a country served their leader, the leader was supposed serve his country.

When she rode into the Austrian camp, she was more frustrated than embarrassed. Lili wanted to get back into the battle, not so much for the action now as to show Johann that she was more than capable of holding her own, and that she didn't need to be pulled from the field to be protected. She managed to dismount the seemingly enormous horse and met Charles outside his tent. The Archduke was surveying the battle from his vantage point, which wasn't a great one.

"Ah, Lili," he said as she walked up. "It's good to see you haven't been injured. I wish the same could be true for many other men…" he trailed off wistfully.

"Most of them are proud of their battle scars," she replied. "After all, dedication to one's country is one of the noblest causes men can champion."

Charles smiled at her, but not condescendingly like many others would have. "Coming from anyone but yourself, I would call that narcissism. But you're right, and I don't think you've come all this way just to chat with me about the morals of war. Tell me, what's the news from the Liechtenstein company?"

"We've taken Essling alongside Rosenberg," she said dutifully. "I'm certain we can hold it for at least a few hours."

The Archduke looked back out onto the plain. "That's good, since we've lost Aspern, and the French are mounting an attack on our center. If we have Essling, we still have hope."

Lili nodded. As long as the Austrian forces could keep a foothold in the smaller village, they could keep repelling the French, hopefully long enough for the bridges to be broken. She thought aloud, "How's the progress on the bridge?"

"I suppose they're still trying to complete a bridge over the river," he mused. "The Danube is just high enough to cause them trouble, and the last I heard, our troops are giving them hell by sending that debris down. I had a rather brilliant idea, if I do say so myself… but I'm going to have to think it over a bit more before I put it into action."

Knowing that the Archduke could probably go on all day talking to her like this, she pointed out that her troops were still down on the plain. "I should go join them, and give Prince Johann confirmation that you received the news."**Author's Notes**

_**Confederation of the Rhine: **_**Basically it went down like this: Holy Roman Empire Confederation of the Rhine German Confederation Germany. **

_**Breaking the bridges: **_**The Austrians did a great job of thwarting the French with this. Every time the French would try to complete a stable bridge from Lobau to the Vienna shore, the Austrians would send boats, dead stags, and even (I kid you not) a burning mill down the river to destroy it. **

_**Prince Johann of Liechtenstein: **_**This dude was the father of fifteen freaking kids. So of course I had to take some liberties and make him something of a father figure to Lili. **


End file.
